


tremble do those (who unveiled the light)

by Huinari, Koamaterasuhime



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Amnesia, Discovering yourself, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Jadeite-centric, Sil-Mil focused memories, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huinari/pseuds/Huinari, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koamaterasuhime/pseuds/Koamaterasuhime
Summary: Trapped and wandering a labyrinth, Jadeite's only hope of escape and regaining his memories is the magnificent bird of fire at his side. But are some memories better lost than found once more?
Relationships: Chiba Mamoru & Shitennou, Hino Rei/Jadeite, Prince Endymion & Shitennou, Prince Endymion/Princess Serenity
Comments: 23
Kudos: 15
Collections: Senshi & Shitennou Mini Bang 2020





	tremble do those (who unveiled the light)

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had the honor of working with Antonia (Koamaterasuhime) as my artist and Charlie (coppercrane2) as my beta. Both have been very patient and kind with me and deserve all the cyber hugs in the world (because BC’s COVID is going up and I want them to be safe and healthy and happy).
> 
> The theme was red and my mind just jumped to Rei before I could even try to think of anything, and then I thought of things like apples and roses and fire and a phoenix and the next thing I knew I had a plot that wouldn’t let anything else be written.
> 
> And now that I’m done I can finally go read and see other people’s works in this bang (whoo).
> 
> Title comes from Cirque du Soleil’s Luzia song ‘Tiembla la Terra’, except the original version is (in Spanish) ‘tremble do those who unveiled the NIGHT’. For the sake of the story, I changed it to ‘light’.
> 
> Art [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644210)!

Until the fire bird flew down from the sky, Jadeite didn’t know that the world around him was monotonous.

He knew it was hazardous, with the high walls made of thorny vines weaving a labyrinth around him. He could hear the low breathing of creatures he could not see as he hurried down the paths he could, the hair on his back rising with the fearful certainty that the creatures breathing should not catch up to him for his own sake.

But it was hard to realize just _how_ lacking in color everything in his sight was, himself included, until the bird descended from the skies to land in front of him. Feathers the color of fire and rubies shone even in this lightless world, as if the bird itself was the sun. Just the sight of it alone made him warm, which in turn taught Jadeite that before, he had been cold.

The bird was a fiery, passionate red all over, every last feather, except for its ebony beak and its dark violet eyes. It did not land to take perch on the thorned vines, instead choosing to roost on the ground before him. The size of half his body with powerful wings, there was no fear in its piercing gaze.

And what would it have feared from Jadeite, who was so in awe of this bird that he would have forgotten to breathe if it wasn’t automatic?

“Who are you?” he asked, and learned another thing - that of himself, he knew his name and nothing else. Not who he had been, not how he had gotten here, not how long he had been alive.

The bird tipped its head, but did not give an answer.

As if possessed by the rapture the bird induced by its presence, Jadeite slowly reached out, and that was the right course of action. The bird hopped into the air, spreading its wings to gain its balance, and landed on his arm. It weighed very little despite its size, almost as if the bird was nothing but an illusion his mind had conjured up in response to the environment around him, lacking in color and heat and presence.

But the heat on his arm was very real, hot next to his own temperature.

From somewhere behind him, Jadeite heard sounds - shuffling footsteps, heavy breaths - and he looked at the bird, who looked back at him calmly, as if to tell him that whatever he chose, it would support him - even if he were to fight - whatever was behind him.

Even if he would choose not to, it would not judge his fear, the dread coldly grasping his heart at the thought of confronting whatever was pursuing him.

“Let’s go,” Jadeite said aloud, and began briskly walking to the direction opposite of the sounds.

* * *

Until the bird, he hadn’t really paid attention to anything in the maze. Or so Jadeite assumed, because until the bird all he really remembered was just wandering the maze with the sound of something pursuing him from behind and the gut feeling that to be caught by the unknown was unacceptable.

They came upon a wider area of the maze, where a single apple rested on the ground. Jadeite hesitated, unsure of just what to do with this. Did he pick it up? Or was this a trap of sorts? Did he even have the right to take this apple?

The firebird trilled.

He started at the sound. The violet eyes were fixed on the apple, rosy tint suggesting it was ripe and good to eat.

“Do you want to eat it?” he asked. Birds could eat fruit. Probably.

There was no answer, not verbal nor by action, but Jadeite took the fact that the bird did not take its eyes off the apple as a sign, and knelt to pick it up.

The moment his fingers touched the red fruit, he was swallowed by a memory that rose out like a tide.

* * *

His uncle said that this was a great honor for the family, to be chosen to serve the prince, but Jadeite was bored. The palace was okay, and the servants were nice to him. One of them had even given him some apples to eat, and he was working his way through them easily.

But the prince looked rather stiff. Jadeite paused mid-bite to sigh. The dark-haired boy, a little taller and older than him, looked boring when they were introduced the other day, while his uncle told the other adults present that Jadeite was a smart boy who would be very loyal and devoted and so on. He’d be one of those ‘honor, pride, duty’ kind of people, and Jadeite would be stuck serving him for the rest of his life.

Maybe he should run away and join the circus.

Jadeite began to finish his apple when someone ran into him. The remaining half of his second-last apple was struck out of his hand, and made contact with the soil.

“Ow,” said - the prince.

“Ow,” agreed Jadeite. If he’d been hit any harder, he would have really bitten his tongue badly.

The prince looked at him, eyes wide, and opened his mouth.

“Your Highness!” called a man from behind the corner.

Somehow, his eyes widened even further, and as Jadeite wondered if it would be possible for his eyes to pop out of his skull, the prince grabbed his wrist.

“Run!” he hissed, and began to do so himself, dragging Jadeite along what was obviously an attempt to flee.

In the span of a second Jadeite weighed everything. The risk of being yelled at by his uncle for being rowdy at the palace, versus whatever the prince was doing. Which, honestly, didn’t look all that boring.

Good enough.

Holding onto that last apple he had in the hand that the prince wasn’t grabbing, Jadeite ran with him.

* * *

Jadeite blinked, and found himself in the same kneel he had gotten down on to pick up the apple. The apple which was no longer there.

“What was that?” he asked aloud.

The bird trilled softly, reminding him that he wasn’t alone.

“I think it was a memory,” he said. “I saw . . .”

He saw himself, that he knew. His younger self, from a long time ago.

The sounds of pursuit were coming from behind him, and Jadeite chose again to move away from confrontation.

“I think I was happy,” he reminisced as he walked, the bird on his arm a silent listener. It was a memory of a simple time, one that had been dear to his heart. He just knew it.

When they found the gem, that was why Jadeite was more receptive to picking it up. A grey jewel cut to let it shine, roughly the size of his thumb up to the first knuckle.

Jadeite picked it up, and was swallowed by memories he hadn’t known of before, just like he was with the apple.

* * *

“What if I mess up?”

Endymion was a mess. Not physically - because he couldn’t exactly tear out his hair right now, lest he appear a madman in the very ceremony celebrating his coming of age - but emotionally. He was wide-eyed like a terrified horse, and his breathing was shallow and quick.

“My prince,” Kunzite said, responsibly, because he _was_ the responsible one. The older one, the leader, the one who had his life actually put together or he would Make It Be So by the power of a perfectly raised eyebrow and the disapproving downset of his mouth. “You never made any mistakes during rehearsals, and you’ve studied diligently for this day. There is nothing for you to fear.”

“If anything,” chimed in Zoisite, “ _we’re_ the ones more likely to mess up. I think Nephrite still only gets his title right half the time.”

“You want to say that again?” Nephrite moved even as he spoke, arms out and ready to put him in a headlock. Zoisite fled, and Nephrite pursued with vengeance in his eyes.

Kunzite muttered something under his breath, and made his way towards the two rowdy idiots with the long-suffering look he wore so often.

“I hate to say it, because he’s going to be unbearably smug about it,” said Jadeite - quietly, because Nephrite might have been chasing Zoisite but they were still in the room and Zoisite had the unfortunate ability of somehow hearing what others didn’t want him to hear, the little shit - “but he’s right. We’re probably going to mess up, and then you’ll just sigh regally and then carry on, looking like a well-put-together prince, and all the old men on the council will be squawking about how the future of this kingdom is threatened because the youth are different from when they were grateful young men, and what has this world come to, when the current generation is so rowdy.”

Words that Jadeite had definitely heard before and frequently at that, to the point where he remembered the repertoire better than the oaths he was going to be swearing tomorrow.

“Except Kunzite,” he added. “The old men like him about fifty percent of the time. It’s probably the hair. It tricks them into thinking he’s one of them.”

Endymion laughed, and Jadeite counted that as a victory.

Time to move onto phase two, then.

Zoisite stopped running because Kunzite’s hand on Nephrite’s shoulder reminded them both of the Plan, although the stink-eyes exchanged suggested a rematch at a more appropriate time. Dragged closer, the four of them exchanged looks to say, yeah, this is it, and got started.

Zoisite went first.

“I’m the youngest, so I get to start,” he began. “Remember how you dragged me kicking and screaming to sword practice even when all I wanted to do was read in the library, and when I said you were a buttface, you just laughed and told me this was for my own good?”

Jadeite hadn’t been the one speaking but even he could feel the Look of Disapproval from Kunzite, so kudos to Zoisite for the reckless courage that he usually chalked up to Nephrite.

Their youngest wasn’t done, however.

“Even after all your efforts to disrupt my reading time, I’m never going to be the best at physical combat,” he said casually, as if admitting what might be perceived by others as flaws was no big deal. “But you knew that when you argued for me to be one of your knights, and even decided that my strengths would make me a great Knight of Purity and Healing, so I swear that while I might be a pain to deal with sometimes, I’ll always protect you using my methods. In whatever way that I’m needed.”

Jadeite was next. Unlike Zoisite, he chose not to bring up an anecdote of the past.

“Endy,” he said. “You’re not perfect. To be honest, you’re kind of a mess sometimes. But that’s okay because we’re all messes, and that’s how we’re supposed to be.”

Endymion’s lips twitched. “What about Kunzite?”

Jadeite shrugged. “His ability to have fun is lacking.”

Zoisite and Nephrite stifled snickers, and Jadeite felt himself being placed on the List of ‘We Will Have Words’ by the silver-haired man giving him a Look, but when you only lived once, you had priorities, and sometimes priorities meant seizing the opportunity with both hands.

“I promise,” he said, “that even when you’re busy being a nervous wreck and over-exaggerating your present but truly miniscule flaws, I will have the unending patience to not only stay by you, but also be there to push your life back into harmony.”

Nephrite was up next, and if the smirk promising mischief didn’t get him onto the List before any words could even be spoken, then Jadeite would eat his shoes.

“I have to admit,” he said, which meant that this confession was going to be geared towards making fun of Endymion. There was a reason why he and Nephrite got along. “When I first came to the palace and met you, I was disappointed that you weren’t a beautiful princess.”

Endymion rolled his eyes at the age-old grievance he was too-familiar with, after years of hearing that lamentation from Nephrite.

“But for someone who gave me that kind of disappointment as their first impression,” he continued, “you’re not half-bad.”

“Thanks,” said Endymion dryly. “That means a lot, it truly does.”

“You’re welcome,” said Nephrite, “but earned gratitude aside, Endymion, as the future knight of Wisdom and Comfort, I’m going to tell you what my grandfather told me: life is full of failures, and you’re no exception. You’re going to fail, and it’s going to feel terrible.”

Endymion tried to give a deadpan gaze, but the twitching of his lips gave him away.

“What matters - and this is the important part so pay attention,” Nephrite continued, “is that you remember you’re not alone. We’ll be with you, through thick and thin. Sometimes calling you an idiot, but we’ll be there.”

Their prince had to duck his face to hide the grin, while Jadeite clapped Nephrite’s shoulder to convey a silent but violent message of ‘well-done’.

Finally it was Kunzite, and Jadeite gave the oldest knight a look, trying to make it clear to the fun-sucker with only the force of his gaze that for once in his life, he needed to not have propriety and that stiff upper lip. He needed to let his feelings out. Bare his heart.

Kunzite did not disappoint.

“It occurs to me,” he said after a long-suffering sigh, “that you are going to be oath-bound to these three idiots for the rest of our lives, and as I am also bound to you, I will also be with them by default.”

“Hey!” protested Jadeite and Zoisite, trying to not break their indignant faces and slipping in their efforts at best. Nephrite just roared with laughter.

“All the virtue and affection in the world couldn’t balance these three out,” he continued as if he didn’t notice them, “but I suppose I’ll come close enough to make it somewhat bearable to you.”

Endymion cracked and broke into laughter. Whatever dry and cutting thing Kunzite might have had in queue to be said was set aside by the soft, fond smile he wore at the sight.

During the official ceremony, before the court and the eyes of others, they would swear themselves again, knights and loyal vassals to their prince and master. And they would mean the oaths they swore on their souls and swords, truly.

But this, right now, was an oath they made as friends and brothers. Something private, but by no means any less significant in weight.

* * *

It was now less of a wandering he and the bird did, and more of a search. The sounds behind him were not so frightening now, as if by regaining these memories he was more sure of himself.

Nothing to fear but fear itself, right?

“Do you think we should turn back?” Jadeite asked, wondering if he needed to confront the unknown pursuer. “Face - whatever is following me?”

The bird side-eyed him, and then launched itself forwards. Jadeite took that as a no and hurried in the direction of his firebird, who thankfully did not leave him, despite his idiocy.

It seemed that the bird had actually found yet another object and went to point it out before he could turn to wait for their fellow inhabitant of this labyrinth. A red rose, fresh as if just picked.

Without hesitation, Jadeite reached for the rose and let the memories wash over him.

* * *

Endymion was his master, his lord, his prince, his future king, and when all the public wasn’t around, his brother and friend. It was the last two that let Jadeite be completely honest in sharing his opinion with the heir to the kingdom, as was his sacred duty.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Shut up, Jadeite,” Endymion said, distracted as he was fussing over his clothes. Jadeite took the roses he’d picked for the princess away from his anxious hands. They were going to be wrecked if he kept touching them, and then he’d have nothing but a bundle of thorned vines to give, which wasn’t much of a gift, romantic or otherwise.

“The seeds of a tyrant,” Jadeite lamented. “Here a loyal vassal displays utmost fidelity by advising his liege with nothing but truth, and the king, wanting only sweet words, waves away worries from the heart. Alas, our fair kingdom, what shall become of it? Woe, woe.”

“Again, Jadeite, shut up.”

But Jadeite caught the grin and the roll of the eyes, and new he had partially succeeded in distracting Endymion from his anxiety. If it could be seen, Jadeite had no doubts that the anxiety would overshadow the entire palace.

“Right, well, we’ve been through this all, but you always come back to the start, so you fret and I’ll just go through the motions.” He cleared his throat before speaking in falsetto. “’Oh, Jadeite, whatever shall I do? My mysterious lady love will be here any moment and here I am, dressed only in the finest of silks. Oh, what misery is this? How will I ever carry _on_?’ The shame, the _shame_!”

With the flourish of a jester, he deepened his voice. “Why, my prince! Have more confidence, for the lady might have some issues with her sight, or perhaps her tastes in men, but she has been struck with the irrational fever of love and sees you favorably, and is it not a miracle when two different souls look upon each other with this wonderful feeling? Against all odds?”

“Why do _you_ get the deep voice?” Endymion raised a complaint.

“Because your voice gets that high when you’re worried – like a squeaky mouse. And even when I tell you to take it easy and not to worry too much, you still go ‘Jadeite, you’ve never been in love, stop dismissing my perfectly valid and not at all ridiculous worries about how the princess might catch a whiff of my sweat and decide that I –‘”

He accidentally swallowed wrong, and coughed, having been in falsetto for too long. Endymion, brother of his heart, good friend, stood by and watched with a smug look on his face that spoke volumes about his beliefs on divine retribution being very real in that moment.

“We can’t go in yet!”

Coughing fit or not, that was an unfamiliar voice hissing in protest, and Jadeite was on guard instantly. Trying to suppress the last cough, he turned towards the source of the sound while trying to shield Endymion, alarmed.

In the doorway stood two women. The first, Jadeite recognized from what he had coaxed out of Endymion – a beautiful lady with golden hair and wide blue eyes, frantically tugging at her companion. Her long hair was in two buns at the top sides of her head and still reached down to her knees, an impressive length he thought he would only see in tapestries and paintings.

Her companion, though, caught Jadeite’s eyes. Where her princess was in a dress, she wore armor, red as blood and fire. Her hair was dark and glossy, like the feathers of a crow, and Jadeite thought of Zoisite’s stories, of raven goddesses on battlefields.

She didn’t look very happy to have gotten their attention, and Jadeite cleared his throat to get the last of the tickling away so he wouldn’t cough himself to death in the face of strangers.

Endymion, beet-red, looked ready to explode of embarrassment, and Jadeite decided that for his liege and friend, he would play the jester once more, even if it meant making a fool of himself before a very beautiful woman.

“Pardon my manners,” he said cheerfully, because in the face of embarrassment the best way to disguise mortification was to pretend that he meant to be presenting as a ridiculous idiot. “I was dropped on my head a few times as a baby. I am Jadeite, one of my lord’s four guards. I presume that the lady who looks as if she was born of moonlight and the skies is the Princess Serenity, unparalleled in beauty and kindness?”

For his cheek, he received from the man he swore eternal loyalty to a glower that promised a sparring session filled with much pain. Jadeite decided to live in the present and relish it fully.

Princess Serenity, though, was someone who Endymion would definitely fall in love with and be loved by in return. She blushed at the words that Jadeite basically repeated verbatim.

After a quick glance was exchanged, Jadeite decided to trust in Endymion’s decisions.

“This jester will see himself out,” he said with a bow, and moved aside to first let the ladies into the room. Princess Serenity entered, following the path of least distance and resistance towards Endymion like they were the only two left in this world, but the woman in red stepped back – out of the room. Jadeite blinked in surprise, but seeing as he needed to leave as well, followed her example.

What had Kunzite said, when debriefing them about Endymion’s love and the guards that followed her?

Don’t underestimate them, their leader had said. Quite the compliment from Kunzite.

So Jadeite didn’t. “Shall we discuss plans of action?”

Sure, he’d made a fool of himself - if he kept a straight face and pretended he meant it then it couldn’t be held against him, he reminded himself - and sure, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, likely ever would see, but.

Jadeite, for all his easygoing ways, was also Endymion’s guard, and he couldn’t underestimate her, hold her as anything less.

The red woman’s eyes were dark as her hair, but now that they were closer, Jadeite noticed that they were a very dark violet - like amethysts in the shadow of the night, their shade just made apparent by a sliver of moonlight.

“You do not disapprove of this?”

Nothing was given away in that neutral tone - not even her own opinions of ‘this’.

If he was to be as objective as Kunzite or some of their tutors might want, barring any and all emotional attachment, Jadeite would disapprove. He would think it foolish. Tales of the gods, beautiful immortals that were cruel and treated mortal lives as if they weighed lesser than those of flies were what they’d grown up on. All the myths underlined the moral - that one did not cross the gods, that hubris would lead to divine retribution, their life becoming tragedy.

Even if he wasn’t objective, a part of Jadeite worried. He always thought those tales sad, that the gods seemed too much like forces of nature without a concern for mortals swept up in their wrath. The ones filled with hubris, perhaps, deserved punishment, but what tragedies did their families deserve?

Jadeite could name several who had been swept up in the whims of the gods, and countless others whose names were not retold in the stories, mentioned more as a sidenote.

But Endymion said that Princess Serenity was not like the gods of the tales shared to them, and Jadeite believed his prince. Saw the sparkle in his eyes, the way his face lit up with the mere thought of his beloved.

Family was not supposed to disapprove of what made family so happy.

“I’ve been at Prince Endymion’s side for years,” was what Jadeite said instead, “and I’ve never seen him so happy.”

The only prince of the kingdom, the heir to the throne. All his life he was preparing, studying, learning the burden of responsibility.

Endymion had not been a boy for very long. He was prepared to give and give and give to his kingdom, and perhaps that was what a good king was supposed to be, but sometimes Jadeite just wished that he could put down the burdens on his shoulders for a little while, and just live a little as Endymion, not as the crown prince.

“The least I can do,” he said, “is make that a little easier for him. Isn’t that our job?”

Protecting not just his body, but his mind and soul. Comfort.

His counterpart sighed, and in that sound Jadeite read surrender. A knowing grin turned his lips upward.

“Jadeite,” he reintroduced himself. “General, guard, retainer, and friend of Prince Endymion. But that’s a mouthful, and just Jadeite is plenty enough.”

To his surprise, she returned the gesture with a brief smile of her own. “Sailor soldier of Mars, currently in the court of Princess Serenity. You may call me Mars, Jadeite.”

* * *

Jadeite didn’t say anything for a while. The bird landed in his arms, allowing him to carry it. The feathers looked a little dimmer, as if he was absorbing the light from its magnificent plumage, but when the bird leaned its head against his chest, Jadeite couldn’t complain.

“I don’t think it was love at first sight,” he said at last.

The bird looked at him, a question in dark violet eyes. Like hers.

Jadeite shrugged. “I mean, she was beautiful, and I probably made an idiot of myself trying to coax a smile out of her, but... that’s not love.”

A spark of potential could fizzle out into nothing. But if it landed on the right kindling - that, then, could grow into a blaze.

Fittingly enough, the next item they found was an oil lamp, made from red clay, and the memories of Mars came flooding in once again.

* * *

“The soldier of war does not support war?” Jadeite said, surprised.

There was a schedule now, for Endymion’s and Serenity’s guards. Jadeite presumed that the traitorous one was their prince and liege, giving his love the full story on how his men were basically just fighting to find any excuse to be around him when she came to visit.

It did make it easier to know when it was his ‘day’ - or in this case, ‘night’ - so to speak. Mars was intelligent and keen, and the time he spent with her trying to match wits and strategies over board games simulating battles taught him quite a few lessons, Jadeite would admit easily.

Somehow polite conversations and pleasantries also evolved into genuine conversations as well as lessons on cultures, the differences and similarities, as well as personal opinions and experiences.

“I don’t mean to offend,” he hurried to add, because he really did sound like someone who expected her to be a war-mongering berserker and that was not what he’d been going for at all. Because she really was not. And he knew that. He really did. Anyone would, if they’d so much as had a chance to exchange words with her.

And he was saying all of this out loud, so now would be a good time to place a filter between his thoughts and his mouth. Right now.

Technically the more ideal time would have been in the past. Jadeite felt himself shrivel up and die of embarrassment inside.

The light of the lamp was dim, but even that could not hide the amused smile curving her red lips.

“None taken,” she said.

Death came upon him, and its weapon was the truly terrible embarrassment of sticking his own foot in his mouth. What an inglorious way to go.

Mentally slapping himself, he committed.

“If I may,” he said, “how does that work?”

In the dark that was just barely held at bay by the lamp’s tiny light, flickering shadows cast across her face like strips of a veil that completely failed to hide her beauty.

“Conflict is inevitable in this world,” Mars said slowly. “You are the knight of harmony and patience, Jadeite. And in a way it makes sense - for there to be harmony among the different, we require patience. The patience to tolerate each other’s differences, to earn us the time to see and learn how to love instead of hating what sets us apart.”

Jadeite held onto her words with wide eyes, surprised that she seemed to be reading the words off of his very heart. That was the philosophy he found for himself when he first received his title, the equation of patience and harmony and how it was his strength. What he strived for.

Mars smiled wryly. “Sometimes we don’t have that, however. And in a way we might be considered opposites - you, the knight of harmony and patience, and I the soldier of war and passion. Passion is like fire - it can be good, warm, but it can burn just as easily, because passion is by its nature rash, and rather impatient. And war - war is the other side of the coin, where the inevitable clashes of our differences manifest in a more negative manner.”

What a sobering thought that was, as chilling as a bucket of water being dumped over his head out of the blue.

“Is war inevitable, then?” he asked, voice quiet in fear that he would disturb the atmosphere if he raised his voice too much. “And peace impossible?”

Did even the gods say that differences would never be reconciled?

Mars hesitated in her answer, but it was not the hesitation of dishonesty.

“We of Mars believe that from the moment we are born, from the moment life begins, we are at war,” she said at last. “That to live is a war in itself. Against the world, against others, against even ourselves. Even,” and she paused to smile, “even working for peace, because that is in itself a fight.”

Remembering their earlier conversation that had led to this, about old men who liked raising their voices in support of conquest while in their comfortable seats far too much, Jadeite snorted.

“War is inevitable, from our point of view,” Mars said, words soft. Jadeite did not make the foolish mistake of believing that was because of weakness or a lack of faith in her own words. There was liquid steel in her eyes, and conviction in every line of her face. “It’s just that we may sometimes pick our wars. A war for peace, rather contrary as it sounds, would be something we would fight for. If it was worth fighting for.”

Her eyes were on him, and if her gaze had a grip it still couldn’t have held him as tightly as it did in that moment.

Zoisite once said that in his homeland, the winters were so cold that lakes would freeze, to the point where people could walk upon the surface. But when the ice was weakened, or too thin because it was melting, it was all-too possible to fall through.

The danger was in the shock of the sudden cold, he said, but also in being dragged under. Because the hole you fell through was small, and the rest of the ice was not guaranteed to be easy to break, it was difficult resurfacing, and you were trapped under the ice in freezing water without a source of air.

It was easy to drown, he had said. And hard to escape.

Jadeite felt like that now, as if he’d fallen through the safety of thick ice into the sudden plunge, into that cold lake without a way of escaping.

The difference, Jadeite imagined, would be that he was not cold, and that it was not quite fear for his life that filled his heart in that moment of realization.

“I think,” he said, and his voice was rough, “there are definitely some things worth fighting for.”

When the distance between their faces - and more specifically, their lips - closed over the dark barely held at bay by the small bit of light, Jadeite kissed her like she was the only air he could have in that sudden plunge into the lake, and she kissed back with the passion she was the soldier of.

And maybe, he would think later, maybe the metaphor of her being like air was completely off the mark, because air wasn’t supposed to be addictive.

Jadeite was utterly ruined for any other woman by the soldier who was his opposite and he could not find any desire within him to complain about it.

* * *

He was smiling like an idiot when he emerged from that memory.

The smile, however, faded when he saw the bird, looking exhausted. The bird’s trills had been growing quieter, and it had seemed that the fiery plumage was dimming, but it was only now that it was obvious to him, with the bird’s weakened state.

Foolish of him, to think that it was just the shadows of this dull labyrinth. That it was just his returned memories making him think and see differently.

No strength left in the bird to perch on his shoulder like before, the only option was for Jadeite to carry the bird in his arms. The firebird did not complain, even when he was fairly sure that he was doing it wrong.

“We need to leave,” he said. His memories were not the issue anymore. This bird could not stay in this labyrinth any longer. It was bad for the bird - it sapped the bird’s strength and vitality, and if the bird stayed any longer then it would d-

Fade away, he corrected himself, because even in his own head he was not allowed to say that.

Jadeite didn’t know how he knew with certainty that the firebird’s time in the labyrinth was running low, but he did, and he had to act.

His urgency, however, did not stop the appearance of the next object.

* * *

This time, it was a crystal ball. Opaque, but set in the hollow part of a geode, dark red crystals climbing up its sides like claws to hold it in place.

Unlike the other objects, the crystal ball gave him a sense of unease. Jadeite tried to chalk it up to the emergency at hand, of the bird’s failing to thrive, but to do so felt like closing his eyes to the morning sun and pretending it was still night - it didn’t work. 

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, and walked past the crystal ball. His memories returning were fine, but right now the bird was his priority.

Cradling the bird in his arms, Jadeite went past the crystal ball. His steps faltered, however, when the bird protested weakly.

He looked down, and found those dark, knowing violet eyes peering into his own - almost as if their gaze would pierce his soul.

“But what about you?” asked Jadeite. He didn’t know which direction led him out of this place, but if the bird was losing vitalitin in the maze, then he wanted to take it out of here. It wasn’t good for the bird, he knew with a certainty that was rooted in instinct.

The bird raised its head, and looked at him, fierce and proud. As if to tell him that he was a fool, to worry about her.

And still, Jadeite was reluctant. The crystal ball felt ominous, as if every part of his body screamed at him to not touch it.

“Do I have to?” he whispered, a little ashamed of his cowardice. He was afraid of whatever memory this fragment would return to him. Something about it just set his teeth on edge, like hearing the unpleasant sound of metal screaming.

The bird, who until then had been holding its head as straight as an unyielding warrior’s, slowly and gently put it back against his chest - just above his heart.

That gesture made Jadeite feel protected.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

And slowly, Jadeite reached out and touched the crystal ball.

* * *

The memories this time were the longest yet, and different.

Different, in that they horrified him with their return.

Oaths of loyalty and brotherhood meant nothing. Words declaring the contents of his heart had no meaning.

The end of the world came, but not soon enough to hide the truth of his betrayal. Their betrayal.

Endymion died, their kingdom destroyed, and he, traitor and honorless cur, he turned his blade on the woman he loved.

A second chance was too good for him, and the fates seemed to agree, for he and the other three still served evil, blind and unable to remember what was truly important until it was too late.

Bolts of dark lightning tore his body apart, moments after the return of his memories in his second life, and he and his brothers were nothing but spirits, ghosts bound to this world by the weight of their regrets and sins.

The memories he’d received made Jadeite dislike his own hands, but they were the only things he had right now, and he used them to cradle the firebird’s head. Its once-fiery heat was sapping away, and the feathers felt cool against his skin. He clutched the bird as tightly as he could without crushing the beautiful being.

“Don’t leave,” he begged. It wasn’t just the heat slipping away, Jadeite knew instinctively. Like how a fire died when extinguished, the bird was fading.

It crooned weakly, and then moved its neck. Jadeite watched it pluck a long feather from the tip of its wing, and when the bird let out a muffled sound, he held out a hand without thinking.

The feather that dropped into his palm was a dull red. It was just barely warmer than his own skin.

This was a goodbye.

“Please,” he begged. “No.”

But the bird softly chirped, and then, with a burst of sparks like a burning log popping, the firebird disappeared, leaving Jadeite holding only the feather.

* * *

With nothing but the feather as his only source of warmth in this cold world, Jadeite turned, finally, to face the monster that had been pursuing him through this labyrinth all this time.

He expected a beast, with fangs and claws sharp enough to tear him to shreds. He expected a large monster, capable of overshadowing him. He expected poison, wings, a tail, scales.

Whatever he expected was not met.

Jadeite was confronted with himself, and somehow, that was worse than any monster he could have met.

The other him, the one that stepped out from behind the walls, was not different from him. He was identical to himself, down to the expression of misery and self-hatred that Jadeite felt himself wearing.

“So you’ve stopped running, have you?”

It was grating to hear his own voice from a separate being, and the dissonance filled Jadeite with a strong discomfort. An urge to close his eyes, to deny the being before him.

The other Jadeite spread his arms out, wide – as if appealing with honey-coated words to an audience in a passionate speech.

“You’ve seen yourself now,” he said. “Do you truly deserve to live? Do you deserve happiness? You, who betrayed your liege and love, not once but twice?”

The anger that his doppelgänger’s words fired up within him, Jadeite knew, was that of a defense mechanism. He agreed with those words, knew better than anyone that he did not.

And perhaps that was why this stranger with his face was the one to say the very words he dreaded and feared, wielding them like a dagger.

“Shut up.”

“You can avert your eyes, but the truth can’t be denied or changed.” Terra, but his own voice was so dreadful. “Traitorous wretch.”

The irrational hatred towards his own self, given form, the words that felt like assassination attempts, and the self-hatred pushed Jadeite over the edge.

“Shut up!”

Jadeite lunged, but his other self stepped past the wild attempt easily, and punched him in the throat. While Jadeite stumbled, gasping at the shock of the pain, he was knocked off his feet, and then his sight was filled with his doppelgänger’s unfortunately familiar face, looming over him as he wrapped his hands around his throat.

He struggled, but there was little progress made in his attempt at resistance.

“There is no forgiveness for you,” said his voice from the other’s mouth, the voice that also whispered from his own heart.

Because how could he deny the truth of those words? How could he be forgiven, he the traitor, the sinner? He who was turned on his liege and love, his life that held no worth by the dishonor it meant.

How could he dare fight this monster that wore his own face, when he himself was a monster far worse?

The feather flared, and the other Jadeite screamed like the light burned him. Jadeite choked, air welcome even as it felt bruising entering his lungs.

The last thing the firebird left him, the beautiful feather, burned with light, a miniature supernova. Even when she was no longer present, the bird was watching over him.

And the other Jadeite, moaning in pain, could not stand the bird’s warmth. Even when the feather burned away, leaving nothing behind, he still moaned in pain.

Jadeite huffed, breath still wheezing. He couldn’t trust himself. Obviously.

“You’re right,” he rasped. He didn’t have a thing for being strangled, but the difference in voice that it made meant . . . well, he still didn’t like it, and would avoid it in the future if given an option, but right now it was acceptable. “I’ve betrayed my liege and my love twice. It’s not forgivable.”

“Then die!” the other Jadeite screamed, staggering back to its feet. He – it – clutched at its face with its hands, but between the fingers Jadeite caught sight of its eyes, filled with madness and hatred.

“That’s not up to you or me to decide,” he answered, and this time it was the other him that lunged, and him who dodged it easily. As a general, former as that title was, it wouldn’t do to lose to an imposter so easily. That would just be pathetic. More pathetic than what he was now.

“Obviously, I’m not someone whose judgement is to be trusted,” he continued, “and you know what? That means whatever I think can’t be trusted either.”

Who trusted traitors to make the right choice? Not even the traitor himself.

“But you know who can be trusted?” Jadeite asked, grappling with his other self. The doppelgänger felt weaker than before. Or maybe he was stronger, had always been stronger, and the difference was that now he had a reason to fight back. Had remembered his reason to fight back.

The other him didn’t even answer, giving nothing but a wordless snarl of lunacy and anger, and it was probably perverted of him to be enjoying this as much as he was, but Jadeite laughed. The sound was hoarse and ugly, but he did laugh.

The world began to lighten up, monotone shades slowly losing their grimness as color began to return, little by little. The walls of the labyrinth surrounding them began to disintegrate away into nothing.

“Her. Him.”

Light filled this dark world, and though it blinded him, Jadeite felt the doppelgänger fade away, like he’d never been there.

“I can trust them,” he panted, and his own vision faded away.

* * *

Jadeite woke up in Elysion, on a stone altar. Surprisingly not as cold or as uncomfortable as it could be, given the material it was made out of. Or maybe he wasn’t used to being material yet.

“Morning,” he croaked to his master, whose eyes were suspiciously damp. And had bags under them that would make a panda mistake him for a relative.

“It’s five in the afternoon,” retorted Chiba Mamoru, extending a hand to help him up. Jadeite took it, not just because he needed a hand getting up but because of the contact it meant. The contact that was extended into an embrace when Mamoru used the momentum of pulling him up into a hug. Jadeite clung to him, his warmth, his presence, and Mamoru let him until he could bear to let go. If there was a damp patch on his shoulder after, well, maybe there was a leak in the room, because his face also felt rather suspiciously damp.

Helios - who also looked rather racoon-eyed from exhaustion - gave him the briefing. Being brought back to life by a miracle, but being trapped in a dream maze crafted from their own guilt, a prison they couldn’t escape until they themselves were able to move on.

Which was terrifying and probably important, but there were other things on Jadeite’s mind right now that made the briefing go in through one ear and stash itself in the back somewhere for later, because he had priorities.

“Who else is up?”

“Zoisite, but he fell back asleep.”

Jadeite opened his mouth, to ask, and then closed it without making a sound. She wasn’t here. None of them were, but Jadeite’s biggest concern and curiosity, burning like fire, was _her_.

Mamoru grinned, a flicker of mischief in his eyes.

“My wife is out grabbing food for us,” he mentioned casually, “she ran out after Zoisite woke up because she thought you might like to eat something.”

Then, Jadeite figured, _she_ would be with the princess. They all would, because unlike them, the sailor soldiers had been loyal to their liege.

“Luna and Artemis went with her,” Mamoru continued, “because carrying enough food to feed eight people who just woke up from enchanted slumber isn’t an easy feat for one person to do, and I had to stay here.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“Well, actually, more,” Mamoru said, “she’s also going to eat, and she’d never not feed Helios and I. So at least eleven people, thirteen if Artemis and Luna will also eat with us-”

“Where is she?” Jadeite blurted out, unable to hold it back any longer.

* * *

She was asleep, a slight furrow between her brows.

In this life, she wore the white and red clothes of a miko, but Jadeite didn’t let himself even consider the idea that the lack of armor made her weak in any way. Her soul was still the same, that of fire and the blood of war.

Despite his silence and best efforts to remain as quiet as possible, she woke up, and her eyes were the piercing violet ones that had given him hope in the literal midst of his own despair.

“We’ll talk,” she mumbled, and Jadeite couldn’t help the wide, probably very goofy smile that spread across his face at the sound of her voice. It was groggy and heavy with sleep, and possibly the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “ _After_ I get some actual sleep.”

Her eyes shut again, and her breathing evened out.

When Mamoru came to check on them, he found them both asleep, Rei on her back and Jadeite with his head in his arms, at her bedside. 


End file.
